


First Day on the Job

by TheDarkivist



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Drabble, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Not Canon Compliant, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkivist/pseuds/TheDarkivist
Summary: Jon forgets his lunch, and apparently, he has a friend now. He can't prevent it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	First Day on the Job

**Author's Note:**

> So I was reminded of this little cracky idea I had a while back, but that I'd had abandoned for whatever reason. 
> 
> TMA AU in which a bunch of 'useless avatars' (avatars that aren't particularly powerful, hell-bent on the world ending, lost in the sauce of cosmic evil that much etc.) tries to protect Jon from [redacted]'s grand plan. No, they don't know what's up either, but they have just enough hints to assume Jon is in some way at the centre of a possible calamity. Y'know, just some #crack with a generous helping of #everyone lives and #harem but it's friendship.

Jon shifted in his seat and licked his lips. The green light seemed to mock him as he shuffled the papers in his hands once more, about to start recording. Even now the idea of committing the more stubborn statements to the tape struck him as ludicrous. Maybe he didn’t have much of a proper archival training, but he had that vague notion that perhaps picking up the files at random wasn’t the best approach. But nothing else seemed feasible and the idea of going to Elias and risk being exposed as incompetent prevented him from asking for advice.

“Test… test… test… one, two, three… Right.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Jonathan Sims. I work for the Magnus Institute, London, an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal. The head of the Institute-”

The door flew open and startled Jon. The man who sauntered into the room marched towards Jon’s desk and proudly presented him with a brown paper bag that already seemed to be leaking in several places. Jon had seen the man before before, in the Institute canteen. Warlow – was it Warlow? – was a man in his mid-twenties man, not too tall, not too short, with broad shoulders, his frame topped with a mop of unkempt brown hair, and a perennial stubble. He was missing a couple of fingers, but Jon was trying to act as if he hadn’t noticed. Most people remembered Warlow, though it had less to do with his _appearance_ and more with his _presence_. He looked more solid than anything around him, like the only living actor in a bad CGI film. Jon quickly paused the tape recorder.

“I’m not disturbing, am I?”

“Well, in fact-”

“You forgot your lunch, so I decided to drop it off.” He laughed the laugh of someone who laughed often and with great pleasure, and Warlow had the wrinkles to prove it. “No need to thank me.”

Jon tentatively peeked into the bag. It looked like a perfectly innocent sandwich with cheese and little crunchy radishes. And a couple of apple slices on the side. It looked nothing like the sandwich he bought upstairs.

“That’s not my lunch.”

Warlow’s expression turned grave. “You don’t want the chicken. I saw the freezer. If I were you I wouldn’t touch anything meat-adjacent here.” He averted his eyes and stuck one of his fingers into his mouth, pensively gnawing at his nail as he took in the office. “So that’s the archive?” he asked, though the sentence came out muffled. “I expected something bigger. Something more compliant with standard archiving procedures.”

Great. An expert. Since Jon got the job of the head archivist, everyone and their dog suddenly seemed to hold a degree in archival science. “This is only a part of the archive,” he snapped.

Warlow finally ( _finally!_ ) removed his finger from his mouth and wiped his hand on his faded black jeans. “Sure, sure. Just thought you might want to bring that up. People are more likely to hear you out now that you’re in charge.”

“I hardly think that’s-”

“I mean, no need to bother Elias with that. The artefact storage has someone who makes sure nothing crawls in or out, you could borrow them for a few days.” Robert paused. If his spidery associate was to be trusted, it was the head archivist who had to be kept safe from their patrons. Fair enough, Robert Warlow promised to do his best, but he couldn’t but wish their unknowing charge was someone less prickly. He took a long, hard look at the archivist, and added: “I know I don’t need to tell you that, you’re a real pro. I bet you’re already on it.”

“Yes, of course,” Jon lied, making a mental note to track down that artefact-wrangler, whoever that was. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

“No problem, Mr Sims. So, how do you like the archive-”

“I must go back to work now.”

“I guess you must.” A little wrinkle appeared between Robert’s brows as he turned around and left the dusty office. Oddly enough, for all his fleshy density, he walked quietly.

With a sigh, Jon turned the recorder on once more.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, the only reason I'm posting it is that tumblr and its shiny new text editor apparently has a word limit now...? Thanks, I hate it. 
> 
> On a final note, I'm unlikely to post more of this, but I did post Warlow's statement (Hungry Grass), if you're into that.


End file.
